


Forgive Me My Weakness

by SingManyFaces



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: 5+1 Things, Background OT4, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Force Bond (Star Wars), Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Polyamory, Sharing a Bed, mentions of canon-typical violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-10-06 02:50:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17337290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SingManyFaces/pseuds/SingManyFaces
Summary: Anakin and Ahsoka’s relationship shifts and grows deeper over the course of their time together, as shown through moments when they share a bed.





	1. Cold

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally thought of as 5+1 story, but I ended up chaptering it instead of sticking to the usual format. The story is rated for the last chapter; while its focus is on Anakin and Ahsoka, they're actually part of an OT4 that's coming together in the background. 
> 
> Space is cold, set not long after Christophsis.

It was with a rare sense of peace that Anakin began to wake, consciousness returning to him slowly. The first thing he became aware of brought a soft smile to his face—the petite body pressed close against his back. Well, that explained it; he always did sleep better with company. 

Turning, he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer, tucking her head under his chin. But as he nuzzled into her hair, well. It wasn’t soft curls that met his skin, but an unyielding curved shape. Eyes still closed, his brows knit together; his voice was warm with amusement, though still rough from sleep, “Did you come to bed wearing a head piece?” How tired had she been?

Movement against his chest; she slowly worked a hand between them to feel at her forehead as she yawned against his neck. “I guess so…”

Realization slammed into him at the sound of her voice—not Padme!

And with that important piece of information came a rush of others to bring him fully awake: neither the bed nor the pillows were as plush as those to be found in the senatorial apartments, the blankets far thinner and fewer in number. He was on the Resolute, two rotations into a hyperspace jump, which meant… “Ahsoka!”

His padawan startled awake, a kick to his shin barely cushioned by their blankets. “Here, Master!” she answered without thinking. Ahsoka opened bleary eyes, attempting to find the chrono on the wall but giving up quickly. “Good,” another yawn, “morning?” She had the decency to look faintly sheepish.

Deadpan, “Good morning?”

He was clearly looking for more of an explanation. “I was really cold,” she offered guiltily after a moment, “and the spare blanket I found barely did anything to help.”

That was a pain he knew well; it didn’t seem to matter how much he tinkered with the heating systems, he could never get them to keep producing the higher temperatures he’d prefer. “So you just came over here?”

“You’re a furnace!” she defended, the accompanying motion of her hand tossing back her blanket. It appeared she had brought her own over with her rather than just crawling under his, so at least there was that. Capturing the hem of it, she yanked it back up to her chin before curling her body a little tighter under it. “Space is cold, Master.” 

A snort of laughter ruined his glare, it might have been the sulkiest he’d heard her sound. It was tempting to send her back to her own bunk—if she hadn’t spoken, who knew what kind of awkward situation might have developed? Despite that thought, though, he found the plea stirred a memory. The shivery rooms of the first ship he had ever traveled off-world in, sympathetic hands tucking extra layers around him for warmth. He had felt embarrassed about voicing the need at the time but his angel hadn’t judged him for it, only comforted him with the assurance, ‘Space is cold.’ 

He felt an echo of that same shame now, though it wasn’t his own. Their bond was still new but Ahsoka’s embarrassment radiated clearly between them in them Force. 

Heaving a sigh he wrestled his blanket out from under her, peeling it back invitingly. “Alright, Snips, get in.” 

The grateful trill that left her throat startled him, but then she wrapped her blanket more tightly around herself before rolling under his; he grunted as her back collided with his chest. “Thank you, Master!” 

Shaking his head, he pulled his blanket over them both, settling his arm over her waist. “Just wake me first next time, okay?” Ahsoka craned her neck awkwardly, meeting his gaze over her shoulder. “Give me some warning.”

A bit of her earlier sheepishness crept back into her expression as she nodded, repeating as she snuggled down, “Thank you, Master.”


	2. Anakin's Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahsoka was used to Anakin's nightmares.

It didn’t happen every night, not even most nights.  But, as Ahsoka had come to learn very well, Anakin had nightmares.

 

Tonight it didn’t take hold of him until after they’d been asleep for a while, his unease churning so loudly in the Force it practically reverberated in her montrals as she snapped awake.  _‘What’ll it be tonight, Master?_ ’ she wondered as she propped herself up on an elbow; by that point she felt like she had a good handle on his different rhythms. 

 

He never screamed but more than once she’d heard him muttering pained or frightened phrases, names that she knew all too well; sometimes she heard her own.  His fingers clenched and unclenched uselessly as his brows knitted, his body twitching in fitful movements beneath his blanket.  Even in the low light of the room the there was an obvious film of sweat on his skin.  Taking a moment to center herself in calm, she slipped out of her bunk and crossed the narrow space to her master’s.  Ahsoka remembered their standing agreement to wake him before climbing in but, growing up in the crèche, the masters had always taught them not to wake someone having a nightmare.

 

And, well.  It wasn’t like this would be the first time she’d done it.

 

Carefully, so as not to disturb the thin mattress, she crawled beneath his blanket and curled against his side.  Sometimes that alone was enough, their bond amplified by proximity chasing away the images plaguing his mind.  Other nights—

 

Like a sprung trap his arms closed around her, near-painfully tight, holding her to him. 

 

“Oh, Master…”  Her voice was barely a whisper as she awkwardly freed an arm, brushing damp hair back from his face before fitting her hand to the curve of his jaw.  “It’s a bad one, isn’t it?”  Taking another centering breath, she closed her eyes and leaned forward to press their foreheads together. 

 

Within her mind, especially so close, the shining cord of their bond was easy to find, though its light dimmed with his distress.  She held it gently, finding the threads that belonged to him and sinking in—never deeply enough to read the images playing out in his mind, just enough to wrap him in her own Presence.  Ahsoka projected as much tranquility as she could into their bond, brushed comfort and calm over every bubble of anxiety she found.  Little by little she felt her efforts begin to take hold, his turmoil quieting, his arms loosening around her.  “That’s better…” she murmured, nuzzling his cheek.

 

Even though she had helped the immediate pain to pass Ahsoka lingered at her master’s side; on a night like this, she knew, the continued contact would be the only thing that helped.  So she wriggled—just slightly—to tuck herself more comfortably against him, the reassuring weight of his metal arm draping the curve of her waist as she settled in.  After a few hours she would rise before him and return to her own bunk, preserving the illusion that she’d never been there.

 

They never _spoke_ about these nights, though, at some point during the next rotation, she was sure to find an extra portion of the jerky she favored slipped in amongst her rations.  It had started after the first few incidents and become very dependable.  And so she felt fairly certain that, at some point, her master had caught on. 

 

And she felt just as certain that he would do the same for her.                  

 


	3. Breakdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unexpected problems make for long, trying days.

For once their mission was a simple one, they’d joked it was probably because the Council couldn’t actually spare them for the proper Retreat they were due for.  They were to be little more than glorified security for a meeting of dignitaries on a Republic world.  After all, whose presence made a flashier show of strength than the 501st in all their glory?  And so, when Anakin and Ahsoka had been called back to Coruscant for a few days, they’d only felt slight irritation over the wasted travel time.

 

They’d returned to an absolute _clusterfuck._

The details still hadn’t been made that clear to them on exactly what had gone wrong—just that it was something big.  Something big enough to cause substantial casualties, and even more injuries to their boys.  And those were the details they were more interested in: who they had lost, how the survivors were faring.  Kix and his detail had been working overtime for days in the medbay they’d set up, doing their best…which was pretty damn good, all things considered.

 

Still, it had been a long day.

 

The Jedi had spent it with their boys, there when some woke up for the first time since their surgeries, trying to boost the morale of the others.  It was draining, making themselves so much to so many, not that they let it show.  But Ahsoka could feel it in the Force, the tension crackling along their bond like an approaching storm, thicker as the day wore on until it seemed the storm would break at any second.  That was when Anakin had excused himself, retreating to their temporary quarters, and Ahsoka followed quickly after. 

 

He was already shut up inside of the room when Ahsoka got there but the door wasn’t locked.  She winced at the hiss of its movement, at the way it interrupted his pacing.  A deep breath, “Not now, Snips.”  He was trying to make her feel comfortable, using the name, like everything was normal.  Like he wasn’t a writhing mess inside.

 

As if she couldn’t _feel_ it.  His back still turned to her, she rolled her eyes.  “I really don’t think you should be alone right now.”

 

A narrow-eyed glare tossed over his shoulder before he took up his pacing again, gaze trained obstinately on the floor before his feet.  “Not really your call.”

 

Long strides across a small room made for short laps; Ahsoka only tracked his path for a few of them before she started to get dizzy.  There was a desk at her end of the room, just a few steps away, and she walked to it with a shake of her head, pulling out the chair as she timed her declaration.  “Well, then, you’ll just have to force me out yourself,” she told him, climbing soundlessly atop it, “because I’m not leaving.”

 

“Ahsoka—” His gaze snapped up from the floor but it was too late.  Ahsoka lunged—only using a _smidge_ of the Force to keep her balance atop the chair—and wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, guiding his head to her shoulder and holding him there.

 

Normally it would have been nothing to launch herself at him from the ground, hang herself from his shoulders, but that wasn’t what he needed right now.  He flailed in surprise, once, his hands pressing to her sides as if to push her away…and then slid around her back as he sagged against her.  She shifted one of her own hands to the back of his neck, giving him a firm but gentle squeeze there.  “I understand keeping up a brave front for the boys,” she murmured, “but not with me.”  Another squeeze.  “We’re a team, we’re supposed to help each other.”

 

He wasn’t ready to hear it yet, twisting the sentiment.  “We were _supposed_ to be here,” he told her fiercely, his muffled volume not hindering his words.  “If we had been, this never would have happened.”  Anakin shook his head, and she thought she might’ve felt wetness on his face as it rubbed against her bare shoulder.  “If _I_ had been here, I could have—”

 

“That’s ridiculous, Master!” she shut him down immediately, her hand closing harder on his nape.  “We still don’t even know what really happened, and no one can be everywhere at once,” knocking her fist into his shoulder blade, “Not even _you._ ” 

 

She didn’t mean to minimize their losses, or seem to shrug off his distress.  But letting him spiral down like that wasn’t going to help anyone and, now that he’d vented, it was time to help him let go.  Heaving a sigh, she unballed her fist and rubbed at the spot she’d struck.  “Take heart, Master,” she reminded him softly, “Sometimes, this is the reality of command.”

 

Anakin made a surprised, wet noise in the back of his throat, dragging his head back to look at her.  “Isn’t that something I told you once?”

 

“Its good advice,” she offered him a small smile, and another squeeze, “Just something we need others to remind us of, sometimes.” 

 

Another sniffle that she didn’t acknowledge, and he allowed himself a small chuckle as he tapped her hand at the back of his neck.  “You afraid I’m going to try and get away, Snips?”  The lighter tone sounded more sincere this time.

 

“ _No,_ ” this time she didn’t bother hiding the roll of her eyes, “just trying to help you calm down.”  She looked at him like it should have been obvious, but he only quirked a brow at her.  After another moment her eyes widened, “Oh!”  He tilted his head inquisitively as her hand left him to hover just briefly over her rear lek before darting away again, the blue of her stripes darkening with embarrassment.  “Does that not work for…?”

 

He filed the new information away as he bit back another chuckle, not wanting to embarrass her further.  “Not really.”  Stepping back, he offered her a hand as she hopped back down off the chair.  Clearing his throat, a little sheepishly, he added, “Humans tend to be more about their hair, for something like that.”

 

“Really?”  She almost looked like she didn’t believe him. 

 

Anakin did laugh that time.  “Don’t look so skeptical!” a small grin, “Just because you don’t have any…”

 

It might’ve been one of the stranger turns their conversations had taken over the course of their partnership, but it was worth following if it kept him from sinking into his anxiety again.  Her hands settled on her hips as she raised her chin.  “You’re right, I don’t,” seating herself on the nearest bed, she gestured expansively to the space next to her, “So show me.”

 

The look on his face was priceless but he joined her anyway, peeling off his left glove.  “It’s not exactly hard science, Snips,” he told her, running his fingers through the longer strands of his hair.  Ahsoka didn’t look overly impressed, her expression provoking more laughter from him.  “Well, it’s better when someone else does it.” 

 

For a moment her hand rose toward him, then she tossed it into the air with a frustrated noise.  “You’re too tall for this, I should’ve kept the chair.”  She seized on his sleeve, up by his shoulder, and yanked him down, receiving a satisfying squawk for her trouble as his head hit her lap.  “Like this?”  Starting at his forehead she dragged her fingers gently through his hair, to the back of his head, her short nails skritching steadily against his scalp.

 

The effect was immediate, the tightness around his eyes easing as they pressed closed; he released a breath that was more like a sigh.  She did it again and felt the tension in his shoulders, pressed against her leg, start to relax away.  “Yeah, Snips,” he almost forgot to answer, “just like that.”

 

She hadn’t even needed to add a brush from the Force.  “I see now.”  Her smile was obvious in her voice, even with his eyes still closed; she couldn’t keep from laughing when his brows knitted, his head nudging her fingertips when she paused just a little too long.  “You’re like an overgrown tooka!”

 

His eyes opened to narrow slits, but only for a second.  “You,” he informed her with an utterly unrepentant grin, “are not the first person to make that comparison.” 

 

Ahsoka amused herself by trying to picture Obi-Wan in her current position…and realized that it really wasn’t all that hard to do.  “Okay up,” she told him as she tapped his shoulder, trying to stifle her giggles, “My legs are falling asleep.”  Her efforts failed as he heaved a long-suffering sigh, playfully dramatic, and sat up.  But as he was about to stand, she only shook her head and pulled him back down.  “I wasn’t stopping,” she clarified, swallowing the last of her laughter as she skinned out of her boots before scooting back against the wall, “I just don’t want to deal with pins and needles.”

 

To his credit, Anakin looked conflicted for a few seconds.  Then he took off his boots and swung his legs up onto the mattress. 

 

Welcoming him back, Ahsoka wasted no time in sinking her fingers into his curling hair again, glad to find the effect it had on him as quick-acting as before.  Slowly the jagged feel of his lingering anxiety arcing through the Force began to smooth out, grow calmer under her continued attention until finally the warm, soothing thrum of their bond was all that remained.  She wasn’t exactly sure how long it took, or when her unoccupied hand had come to rest over his heart, its steady beat peaceful beneath her palm.  “Master?”  Had he fallen asleep?  “…Anakin?”

 

“Hm?”

 

Not asleep, then, but it sounded like it might be a near thing.  “You _are_ my Master,” she began, needing to make her point clear, “but that doesn’t mean you can’t lean on me too.  You know, like I lean on you?”  Thoughtfully tilting her head down at him, she allowed her thumb to sweep over his forehead, smoothing the worry line that was trying to form there.  “Weren’t there ever any missions where _you_ helped Master Obi-Wan that way?”

 

For a moment the only response she received was a soft huff of breath, his eyes remaining resolutely closed.  Then his bare hand sought hers, covering it where it lay on his chest as his mouth curved in a small smile.  “…when did you get so wise, my padawan?” 

 

She knew the small glow of happiness that lit within her at the compliment was probably obvious through their bond, but she didn’t mind.  “I don’t know,” she told him warmly, unable to resist needling him now that the storm was past, “Maybe Master Obi-Wan’s rubbed off on me a bit.”

 

He snorted, squeezing her fingers as he allowed, “Sounds about right.” 

 

Ahsoka let another giggle slip out as she continued stroking his hair. 


	4. Ahsoka's Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahsoka has nightmares after returning from the Trandoshan moon; Anakin knows how to help.

Her teeth sunk into her lower lip, stifling any sound of pain she might make at the sharp stinging bites of the insects crawling over her hiding place; the slightest noise might alert the Trandoshans and their blasters would hurt far worse.  It was all for naught, though, as a crushing grip closed around her ankle, yanking her free of the wide branch she’d been clinging to and throwing her hard to the ground.  Her shout rushed out of her on the air forced from her lungs at the impact and her arms were secured before she could even think of throwing off her attacker. The low drone of a hover-pod rose above her, and with it a chorus of reptilian victory trills.  Standing out above the clamor was the unmistakable hiss of a discharged blaster and she turned her head, screaming in horror this time as O-Mer and Jinx were cut down in front of her.  The smell of ozone rolled over her, told her the blaster was closely pointed at her now, and it didn’t matter that this wasn’t how things had happened because it was how they were happening _now_ and—

 

Ahsoka sat bolt upright in bed, barely hearing her own scream as she did, or the second one she released as she found herself caught in a tight hold.  She flailed as best she could, closed fists pounding against solid muscle again and again before the familiar voice actually filtered through her disorientation.  “Ahsoka, it’s me, Anakin—” He endured a few last hits as she became more aware, promising, “It’s okay, you’re safe.”

 

For long moments the only sound in the room was the harsh rasp of her labored breathing as she stared, eyes wide but unseeing, at the wall behind him.  Her throat worked awkwardly for a few swallows before she buried her face in his shoulder, her own beginning to shake.  At first Anakin couldn’t hear her making another sound, but then he felt her tears smearing into his shoulder.  Wordlessly he rubbed her back in a slow, wide circle with his metal hand, further grounding her in the here and now.  His mouth pressed to the side of one montral, crooning comforting noises.

 

“I thought—” She shook her head, hating how watery her voice sounded, how weak.  She hadn’t given up on the island, she had found solutions and led them all to safety.  Why was she breaking down _now?_   “I’m home now, I should be fine…”

 

His right arm tightened around her as his left hand sought her rear lek and, uncertainly, closed a firm grip on it at the base of her neck.  Immediately her body relaxed against his, a deep sigh gusting over his collarbone.  Briefly he marveled at how effective the simple gesture had been—it was no wonder she had tried to comfort him that way in the past.  But with a shake of his head he moved past the revelation.  “Forgive yourself, Ahsoka,” he told her, flexing his fingers again, “No one can control their dreams.” 

 

Another shuddering, watery breath, but she nodded. 

 

_‘Of all the traits our bond could have imprinted on her…_ ’ he thought mournfully.  Her lingering fear crackled loudly in the Force, and though platitudes came quickly to mind he also knew how useless they would feel to her just then.  So instead, much as she had done in the past, he took a deep centering breath and focused on their bond, opening his shields to wash it in his Presence.  He flowed over it in great waves, each bringing an affirmation to the shore of her mind.  _You’re strong.  You’re not alone.  You’re safe._   And though Anakin had never been particularly known for his calm, he focused on it now, radiating as much of it as he could. 

 

She felt his concern, his care, as the warmth rising after a summer storm, breathing easier as it settled over her.  His grip on her lek became an easy stroke and she shifted in his embrace to lay her head more comfortably on his shoulder.  For long moments silence stretched between them, then, “This shouldn’t have happened to you, Ahsoka.”  Voice softening, he told her again, “I am _so_ sorry.”

 

Earlier when she had touched down at the temple, before she’d gotten a good meal and an even better bath, Ahsoka had meant what she’d told him the first time he’d apologized.  But just then she was grateful to hear the words again, grateful to hear his worry for her, as soothing to her as his Presence wrapping around her.  She shook her head slowly, careful not to catch him under his jaw with her montral, and reached back for him along their bond, shining reassurance; it was so much easier to just _feel_ , and share that, than try to pin things down with words. 

 

When Anakin leaned back from her it was only to reach for a glass of water, pressing it into her hands once he’d retrieved it.  He didn’t bring her in close again, though his hand remained at the small of her back as she drank.  “Is there anything you want?” he asked, and she could feel his thumb moving absently against her skin.  “We could go to the mind healers—”

 

A vehement shake of her head that he couldn’t help laughing at, and she drained the glass before handing it back to him.  “I just want to stay in my own bed.”  She rolled her shoulders to try and ease the lingering knots in her muscles, her neck cracking.  “I think I’m ready to try sleeping again.”  

 

He nodded, patting her back before starting to shift off the mattress—but she caught his wrist.  “Anakin…”  Her lips twisted anxiously, eyes trained on the sheets, “will you stay?”

 

Shifting in her grip, he closed his hand over hers, meeting her gaze with a small smile.  “Of course.”

 

He moved her pillow between his back and the wall as Ahsoka climbed between his legs.  She settled against him, adjusting her sheet, and laid her head on his chest, shifting comfortably as Anakin’s arms closed about her waist; he tucked his chin into the curve between her montrals.  Even though she already felt more relaxed in the Force he murmured, “This okay?”

 

She let out a deep breath, eyes drifting closed as she allowed herself to be lulled by his warmth, and the steady rhythm of his breathing.  “Yes.” 


	5. One Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padme likes to help things along when she thinks people are a good match for each other.

Anakin looked at the large, single bed that dominated the room and let out a heavy sigh.  He should’ve seen this coming.     

 

The last time that he and Ahsoka had been assigned to shadow Senator Amidala, his padawan had mentioned over lunch that they were getting leave for a meditative retreat—the needs of the war effort had left them far overdue for it, and the Council was actually ensuring that they took it this time.  Personally, Anakin was assuming that Obi-wan had insisted, but he kept it to himself rather than darken the lively conversation between his companions again.  His old master knew that he would still need some time and, perhaps more importantly, breathing room after the Festival of Light.  

 

The conversation took a turn anyway, though, when Ahsoka had explained the usual accommodations of such retreats; Padme had looked so comically offended that he nearly laughed.  But after delicately clearing her throat, she’d regained her composure.  “You don’t have to go anywhere specific for one of these retreats, do you?”

 

Ahsoka’s eyes had rolled up in thought before she answered, “No…not really.  So long as you can center yourself, one place is as good as any.”

 

All but melting with relief, Padme had cheered, “Oh good!  Then _please_ let me handle the arrangements for you instead.”  Ever the politician, before either of them could raise an argument, she had placated, “I realize that austerity is a hallmark of the Jedi way, but with everything you’ve both been through recently—”  She’d stopped herself short and taken a breath, her full lips drawn into a near-pout of sympathy.  “I just think that, since you’re actually getting some time to rest, you deserve to spend it someplace comfortable, where you might actually get some.”  She had taken one of Ahsoka’s hands in both of hers, then, and tipped her chin down before fixing her warm, dark eyes on the younger woman.  “Please, will you let me do this for you?”

 

“Uhm…” Ahsoka’s eyes had been wide, brow scrunched in surprise as she shot him a startled glance; he had shrugged, and then so had she.  “Sure?  I guess,” a lopsided smile, “if you really want to, I mean.”

 

“I’m so glad!”  Padme had told her as she’d wrapped her in a quick, excited embrace, “ _Thank_ you—I know just the place, and I’ll see that you get the best room…”

 

That right there, he reflected as he stood in the promised room, should have been the tip-off.  That, and the look that she’d given Ahsoka before she’d said ‘Please.’  He knew damn well that _that_ look, more often than not, led to mischief.   

 

“Maybe there was some sort of mix up with the reservation?” Ahsoka suggested, looking from the bed to the door.

 

Her voice brought him back out of his ruminations and he cleared his throat.  “I doubt it, Snips.”  Striding over to one chest of drawers, he set his bag atop it.  “It seems most of the Senator’s preferred resorts only have one bed in their ‘best rooms.’  This has happened a couple of times before,” with his back turned to her to start unpacking, he hoped it hid the flush he could feel climbing his neck, “with Obi-Wan.” 

 

“Oh.”  He could hear her careless shrug in her voice; apparently it was a good enough explanation for Ahsoka.  Her quiet steps stopped at one side of the bed and he turned to look at her, found her staring at the furnishing with her hands on her hips.  “Well, I don’t think it’ll be a problem,” she announced brightly after a moment, turning an amused grin on him, “I mean—look at this thing!  I think it’s bigger than our whole cabin on the _Resolute_.”

 

He couldn’t help laughing at the accuracy of the assessment.  “Alright, Snips, I’m going to check out the bathroom, then get changed.”  Nodding to the windowed doors behind her, “I think the balcony might be a good place to start.”

 

~*~

 

They grabbed some of the fluffier cushions and moved them out to the balcony; Anakin seated himself and pulled the one that Ahsoka had tossed down to sit in front of him rather than to his side.  At her questioning look he raised one shoulder in a self-conscious shrug.  “I’d like to try something a little different while we’re here.”  He patted the cushion beckoningly.

 

Dropping down onto it, she situated herself so that their knees were touching.  “What’s brought this on?”

 

“Well, I thought about what Senator Amidala said—” 

 

Interjecting gently, “You can call her Padme.”  At his raised brow, Ahsoka reasoned, “She tells me to call her that all the time, I can’t imagine she’s any different with you.”

 

“Fair enough,” twitching a smile, “I thought about what _Padme_ said, and thought we could use something a little…extra.”  He laid his hands, palm up, across their knees and curled his fingers invitingly.  Once her palms rested against his he instructed, “We’ll start like usual and then go from there.”    

 

At her nod of agreement they closed their eyes, began to breathe more deeply.  They focused their awareness on their own bodies first, feeling the tension there as they systematically flexed muscle groups, and then let a little more of that tension go with every exhale.  There was a slight tickle as the process reached their fingers, callused fingertips moving against rarely touched skin, and small smiles—unbeknownst to them—tugged at both of their mouths before they moved on.  As they finished, breathing in sync, Anakin’s voice returned in a low, calming murmur.  “I’ll begin the recitation now—focus on my voice at first, then join me on the repetition.”

 

There was calm between them in the Force, but also just a hint of nervousness beneath.  She tried to make her own trust more apparent to try and sooth it.  “Yes, Master.”

 

Drawing in another deep breath, he began, “I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me.”  With each line of the code came a brief pause for reflection.  “Emotion, yet peace.  Ignorance, yet knowledge.  Passion, yet serenity.  Chaos, yet harmony.  Death, yet the Force.”  The words had been a part of Ahsoka’s life for nearly as long as she could remember but, she’d come to find, they were never quite so comforting as when they were spoken in her Master’s voice.  She felt some lingering tension drain out of her shoulders as she joined Anakin’s repetition.             

 

Eventually the words blurred together as they were supposed to, master and padawan sinking into the trance they were seeking.  Between them, the cord of their bond had strengthened into a rope, their time together on the front forging it solid.  Their partnership probably wouldn’t be considered ‘standard’ by most of the masters but it _worked_ , and there was the testament.  She allowed her happiness to flow into the Force and felt it answered, warm contentment coiling around her.  Anakin was never a subtle Presence in the Force but she had never felt quite so…enveloped by it before.  It invited her to relax her shields a little further, easing more of her own Presence out and twining it carefully through his.  There was a gentle strength that she felt pour into her through the doing of it, more full in the Force during that meeting than she could ever remember feeling before.   

 

It wasn’t clear how long they remained in that state though, upon rising out of the trance again, the sun was low on the horizon, the gentle breeze that had kept the heat of the day at bay beginning to turn chilly.  “That was…” Ahsoka became aware of Anakin’s thumb moving absently over the inside of her wrist; at some point their hands had turned so that his flesh hand covered hers.  She gave her head a little shake, smiling brightly.  “Amazing, that was _amazing._ ” Already she felt more rejuvenated, better rested than she had after the last time she’d gotten a full sleep-cycle, whenever that had been.  “Why haven’t we done that before?”

 

His expression was a rare one for her, pleased but uncertain, more unguarded than she was usually allowed to see.  “I wasn’t sure how well I’d be able to lead us into it.  Obi-Wan…”  He ducked his head, gaze falling to his mechanical fingers, the servos whirring quietly as he flexed them.  “He would have us do it sometimes after something particularly stressful, to get grounded and reconnect.  I’ve always found it,” a lopsided shrug, “helpful, when we did.” 

 

“I’ll say!”  She sank back into her cushion, almost reluctantly drawing her hands back into her lap.  Tilting her head thoughtfully, “Can I try leading us tomorrow?” 

 

“I don’t see why not.”  His grin told her he was pleased to see her take the initiative.  “If the weather holds we can—”

 

A single loud chime rang throughout the room, jarring them from their conversation.

 

Ahsoka straightened again, looking warily through the balcony door.  “What was that?”

 

“Doorbell maybe?”  He seemed just as put off by it as she was.  “Don’t know why, though…”  Getting to his feet he walked back into the room, pausing only briefly by his lightsaber before moving on without it.  Sure enough, there was an employee of the resort waiting dutifully at the door; as soon as Anakin opened it they began to wheel in a meal cart.  “Uhm, we didn’t order this.” 

 

“No, sir!” they intoned cheerfully, steering the cart to the small table set to one side of the room.  Setting the brake, they uncovered several platters of food as they explained, “It was taken care of at the time of the reservation.”  They bobbed a quick bow before scurrying back toward the door.  “We’ll see you again tomorrow!”

 

Anakin was still trying to make sense of the sudden appearance when Ahsoka’s head appeared around the frame of the door to the balcony, beads swinging in a wide arc from behind her head.  “Is there food now?”  As soon as the question had left her mouth her gaze settled on the cart and she gave an appreciative trill in the back of her throat, “I’ll say.” 

 

Chuckling, he pushed the chair nearest to her away from the table with the Force before seating himself in the other one.  “It would seem Padme arranged for more than just the room.” 

 

Her gaze traveled the spread as she seated herself, favoring the various meats; if she hadn’t already realized her hunger, the delicious scents currently filling the room would’ve done the trick.  There was a wine bottle at her end of the cart that appeared to have a card and she plucked it from its string to read it.  Passing it to him once she had, she smiled, “We really need to make sure to say something to her when we get back.”

 

The card was plain, the message short: _‘Enjoy yourselves!  Padme.’_ Anakin could practically see her winking as she wrote it.

 

He felt his face heating again.  “Was already planning to.”  Before he could dwell on it further, though, Ahsoka had opened the bottle with a soft _pop!_ and was filling the two empty glasses on the table.  “Snips!”

 

She didn’t stop pouring, just cocked a brow at him; he got the distinct impression her hands would be on her hips if they weren’t already occupied.  “I know who your master was, remember?” she asked with an imperious raise of her chin, an amused grin taking any sting from the words, “Are you really going to try and tell me you never had anything to drink before you hit Republic Standard?” 

 

Unable to stop the snort that escaped him, he reached out to capture a glass.  “Fair enough, I suppose.”  Tilting the glass toward her, he spoke the warning he’d usually been on the receiving end of, “Just promise not to go near a speeder afterward.”

 

Her grin only widened as she gently knocked her glass into his, “Sounds more like something I should be saying to you, Skyguy.”

 

Dinner was a leisurely affair once they actually tucked in; as in all things, Padme had excellent taste in food and drink.  The relaxed atmosphere returned with their conversation and, more and more, Anakin found himself thinking of similar occasions he’d shared with Obi-wan; the day seemed full of such reminders.  Perhaps aided by the wine, it became easier to remember those good times as they were…and to acknowledge that there was still room for them.  Almost without realizing it, a small part of the storm in his heart calmed, and he felt some of his lingering unrest ease.  Once they’d finished with the cart and left it outside the room to be collected they set about their evening ablutions, the onset of travel fatigue combining with the wine to leave them starting to feel contentedly drowsy.

 

And so it was with understandable frustration that they lay awake at opposite sides of the bed an interminable amount of time later.

 

The room was quiet but for the intermittent rustling of the sheets as they took turns moving fitfully, hoping a new position might help them catch the sleep that was eluding them.  Anakin was mentally weighing the pros and cons of actually checking the chrono on the wall—did he really want to know how long they’d been tossing and turning?—when Ahsoka flopped loudly onto her back.  “I think I know what the problem is!” she exclaimed, her volume and enthusiasm both declaring that she was still feeling pleasantly buzzed.

 

Currently on his stomach with his arms folded under his pillow, Anakin turned his head to look at her.  “What’s that, Snips?”

 

Turning onto her side to face him as well, she jabbed the air with her pointed finger.  “It’s what I said before, when we got here!”  Waving her hand expansively over the width of the bed, “There’s too much space!”    

 

She’d said the space meant there _wouldn’t_ be any problems, but Anakin didn’t see how pointing that out would help anything.  He blinked slowly once, then again as she stared at him expectantly.  “So what you’re saying,” he cleared his throat, “is that you think we should move closer?”

 

An enthusiastic nod.  “It couldn’t hurt, anyway.”

 

The situation was beginning to feel a little too much like a cheesy holovid scenario and it wasn’t as though he hadn’t—all too happily—helped events to play out that way when he’d been in her position in the past.  Was he feeling now what Obi-wan had then?  He shook his head—not what he wanted to be thinking about right now.  Besides, just because something had happened in the past didn’t mean it was going to happen again now.  “Alright, Snips,” he took a deep breath and released it slowly as he wriggled his way to the center of the bed, “let’s give it a try.” 

 

Ahsoka didn’t say anything, just rolled eagerly to meet him, drawing surprised groans of pain from them both when the motion sent one of her lekku slapping against his jaw; she took it into both of her hands and rubbed it consolingly as they tried not to laugh.  Turning onto his side, he let his hand smooth down her rear lek before settling it at the small of her back.  It was all the prompting she needed to cuddle in against him, tucking herself under his chin.  Once she was comfortable she released a satisfied-sounding sigh, “Yeah, that’s better already.”

 

Chuckling, he remembered something she’d told him once when they hadn’t been partners long, “Because I’m a furnace?”

 

“No~” He suspected she was rolling her eyes at him.  Then, giggling, she allowed, “Well, yes.  But no.”  Another sigh, and she felt fuzzily contented in the Force.  “Your presence is soothing when you’re this close, I like it.”

 

Once more he felt his face heat and was glad that the low light, and their positioning, kept it hidden.  Even if he could blame the wine for loosening her tongue he didn’t know how to react to the sentiment.  “Pretty sure you’re the only person who’s ever said that,” he noted lamely.

 

Anakin knew the effect he had on other Force users; even with his shields at their strongest, he was _a lot._ The idea that anyone would find him calm, let alone soothing, was frankly…Ahsoka must’ve caught the drift of his thoughts, her closed hand thudding against his hip, more lightly than it usually would have.  “Didn’t say you felt calm,” she snorted, “You just take getting used to.  Now that I am…”  He felt her mouth open wide in a yawn.  There was soft confusion in the Force between them; he suspected she lost her train of thought.  She gave her head a little shake as if to clear it, mumbling, “Close is better.”

 

Finding himself slowly stroking her back, thoughts occupied by her confession, he wasn’t sure how long he’d been doing it.  “How do you sleep when we’re back at the Temple?”

 

She was so quiet that, for a moment, he wondered if she’d actually managed to fall asleep.  “I don’t, not so well as I used to, anyway,” she told him finally.  Drowsiness _was_ taking a hold on her again.  “It’s so quiet there.”

 

It was easy for him to sympathize—even before the war there had been times when he’d found the thick, insulating walls of the Temple to be stifling.  It must be so much worse for Ahsoka, a greater loss after taking comfort from the place for so much of her life.  And now…well.  Now he found that sometimes even the _Resolute_ , never silent for all the noises of a working ship, was too quiet to sleep comfortably in, especially so on those occasions when he was assigned to something away from both his former master and his padawan. 

 

But now his thoughts couldn’t help but turn to the times—he’d lost track of how many—that Ahsoka had nudged him awake, pleading the cold, and they had sunk into deeper, more restful sleep after, together.  Or the mornings when, despite the fact that she’d apparently remained in her own bunk, his bedding smelled faintly of the vitamin oil she used on her montrals.  He’d always felt more refreshed on those days as well.  The more he thought about it, the more the simple truth became clear: she was right.  Close was better.  How had he not realized until then?

 

Gently he drew the back of a knuckle down the curve of her cheek, let his fondness, his gratitude seep into the Force between them.  She said nothing but he felt her smile beneath his touch, felt her answering emotions meet his own through their bond.  Shifting again, he drew her a little closer into his arms, his hand cradling the back of her head.  His voice was a murmur between her montrals, “We’d better make good use of our time here then.” 

 

Her arm wound around him in response, squeezing him tightly before she drifted into sleep.


	6. After Onderon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A close call leads to some much needed comfort.

Levitation was a game, one of the simplest that younglings played, one that she was _good_ at.  Ahsoka had been one of the first among her crèche mates to lift another person, and Force knew she had gotten plenty of practice during her apprenticeship; Anakin liked to play too.  It was usually together that they lifted Rex, in his full armor.  But she was on her own when she had held Riyo aloft and out of danger, had lost track of the number of opponents that she had lifted away from herself; she was no stranger to maintaining the technique under fire.  So why now, just minutes after moving Lux to safety had she—

 

She felt a gentle nudge in the Force, Anakin tapping at her shields.  Rather than answer the invitation she turned her head toward him, humming questioningly.  Ahsoka regretted it when she felt his Presence shrink back.  “Try moving it?”

 

Ahsoka did as asked, first rotating her shoulder carefully and then extending her arm to test her range of motion.  The bacta had worked well—her range was intact and already there was only a little bit of lingering pain, no worse than the aftermath of an energetic sparring match.  “Good,” Anakin seemed to agree, relief evident in his voice.  He swept the bandages he’d peeled away from her off of the bunk and into the trashcan before she felt his fingers on her back, just skirting the bottom edge of the healed blaster burn.  “A few more days under a bacta patch and you probably won’t even scar.”  The mattress shifted beneath them as he reached for their med kit to look for one of the proper size.

 

Looking down at herself, Ahsoka drew her robe a little lower on her chest.  The scorching had already completely vanished from her shoulder and, as she trailed the edge of the scarring on her chest with her own fingers, she realized he was probably right.  Already the markings were no longer raised, the color only slightly darker than her skin.  It could very well disappear entirely if she left another patch on for a few days.

 

“Master…”  She turned bodily, their knees bumping, and found him with a bandage in hand, about to pull apart the protective wrapper; Ahsoka laid her hand on his wrist.  “We don’t really need to waste that on me.”  Attempting a small smile, “It would just be cosmetic at this point.”    

 

An odd pressure began to rise between them in the Force, sway toward her, and Anakin must’ve realized he was letting something slip through because she felt him _yank_ it back, tamp it down.  It mostly worked.  His voice was quiet, uneven, “This isn’t something you need to keep.” 

 

Ahsoka wasn’t sure what suddenly made her so bold but she reached out, watched his eyes drift briefly closed as she ran her thumb down the length of the scar by his eye.  “What about this?”  She didn’t draw away, pressed her hand to the curve of his cheek instead.  “Why did you keep it?”

 

She watched the movement of his throat as he swallowed.  “I learned something about myself when I got it, something important,” he said finally, “I didn’t want to forget it.”

 

Nodding, she found herself absently tracing the lower edge of the scar again.  “Sounds about right.”  Gently she plucked the bandage from his fingers and laid it aside.  There was a murmur in the Force between them, quieter than the moment before but with the same feel, brushing against her shields.  This time she opened herself, and reached back for him.           

 

It was hot and cold at once, the clash of his emotions washing over her; vaguely she was surprised at how muted he’d managed to keep himself until then.  The strongest thoughts and impressions rose loudly, clamoring against each other in a familiar litany.  ‘ _Worry.’ ‘Safe now!’  ‘Fear.’  ‘Still whole!’  ‘I should’ve been sooner.’_   ‘ _I should’ve been **there**!’  ‘If I had been—’_

 

Her hand slid into his hair and she made a soft noise, caught half-way between a gasp and his name, before she closed the distance between them. 

 

Surprise didn’t stop him from responding, lips parting beneath hers to deepen the kiss.  His hands at her waist pulled her easily into his lap before balling in the loose fabric of her robe.  The shift brought her back to herself and she broke from him, panting, her forehead pressed to his.  “Sorry—” 

 

Abruptly she remembered the way he’d cautioned her at the beginning of all this, when she’d been unable to keep her focus from drifting.  _“I understand,”_ he’d told her, as she tried not to fixate on Lux.  Then, it had suddenly been all too easy to realize _why._   “I’m sorry,” she repeated, eyes pressing closed as her brows knit, “Is this okay?”

 

“It is.” He told her immediately, absently pressing his lips to the corner of her mouth, “I promise you it is.”  It was all the permission she needed, tilting her head to catch him in another insistent kiss.      

 

The dam had been broken, emotion thrumming thick between them, making every touch desperate.  She didn’t remember parting from him long enough to get his shirt off but she must have because there was nothing but warm, smooth skin beneath her hands as they traveled his broad shoulders.  The laces of his pants pulled loose easily and the garment was dipping low on his hips, her hands now working at the sash holding her robe closed, before there was a shake of his head, “Ahsoka…”  The question he meant to ask would have been an awkward one even if his mind wasn’t already struggling to settle on words.

 

But Ahsoka read the impression well enough.  “No.”  The blue of her lekku flushed darker, though not with embarrassment, and she freed her sash, letting the robe drop from her shoulders, “This isn’t my first time.”

 

Relief swelled so suddenly from him that she couldn’t help joining his breathy chuckle.  “Thank the stars…” 

 

She curled the Force about his ankles and yanked the pants from his legs, his surprised yelp startling a small fit of laughter from her—it felt good to do.  Situated as she was it was easy for him to lean in, press soft, open-mouthed kisses across her new scar tissue; they were still so entangled in their bond that she could taste the too-sweetness of the bacta residue as if it were under her own tongue.  He shifted his attention to her lek, draping across the center of the scar, and heat coiled low in her belly as a nuzzle turned to reverent mouthing.  _‘…could’ve lost this…’_  

 

 _‘Don’t think about it.’_ Focusing on the feeling of his mouth against sensitive skin, she felt him shudder deeply as their bond looped the sensation back to him.  Taking her other lek in hand she gave it a slow stroke, twisting her wrist a little as she reached the end; she smiled as she heard his breath hitch with her own.  “I didn’t realize you’ve been this worried,” she murmured, stroking again, “You always seemed so calm.”

 

“Yeah, well,” his voice was breathy, and he offered her a lopsided grin, “I was trying to maintain my focus.”  

 

The affection rolled off of him, warm waves in the Force, and she trilled softly in the back of her throat, claiming his hands in her own and raising them to her lips.  “Well, now,” she pressed a kiss to the knuckles of his right hand, then his left, before settling them on her breasts, “you can just focus on me.” 

 

“Gladly.”  She was unprepared for his tongue, trailing a smooth line from the tip of one lek to the base of her montral, her stripes blooming vibrant blue beneath the attention.  Still shuddering from the wake of it a long, soft noise mewled out of her as he kneaded her breasts; she savored the different textures of his fingers against her skin, callused flesh and smooth metal, as he gently rolled her nipples.  Panting, she dropped a hand between them, provoking a strangled little gasp as her hand closed around his cock.  “Ahsoka—” his voice was rougher than she’d heard it before, the warmth of it urging her hand to move again.

 

A small cry escaped her as his fingers accidentally twisted harder than he’d meant; immediately he soothed an apology through their bond, surprised when her only answer was a brush of encouragement.  He obliged her, head dropping to her shoulder as he tried not to move his hips to the rhythm of her hand.  It was a fight he was losing.  “‘Soka…” he murmured, voice vibrating low against her lek to make her shiver, “Please…”

 

She nodded, already raising up, and then let herself sink slowly onto him.  For a moment they could only cling to each other, overcome as their bond mirrored the sensations between them—filling her, being filled—before they began to rock against each other.  Their mouths came together in deep, languid kisses that turned gasping when the roll of their hips became more urgent.  Shuddering at the drag of her nails down his back, he buried his face in the crook of her neck, mouth closing on the juncture of neck and shoulder to taste her sweat-slick skin.  Her hand in his hair, another nudge of encouragement in the Force, and he bit down.

 

He sucked a bruise there as she keened, worried carefully at it with his teeth before soothing it with his tongue, pulling in a harsh breath as she clenched around him.  The lek was too sensitive for such attention, he knew, but that didn’t stop him from experimenting, breath ghosting warm over vibrant blue before he gently skimmed his teeth there.  Her grip in his hair tightened to hold him close, her voice a low, pleased hiss, “ _Yes._ ”

 

Ahsoka felt the smile curve his lips before he did it again, following it with a soft, sucking kiss.  He repeated the pattern again and again, and dimly she realized that she was barely breathing as she rode him harder, chasing her pleasure.  The consuming heat of it reached its fever pitch, a cry torn from her throat as her body tensed; she clung to him as, moments later, he moaned brokenly against her skin, his own climax crashing over her through their bond and leaving her weak. 

 

For long moments the rasp of their breathing was the only sound in the room, then the whisper of their bodies moving against the sheets as Anakin lowered them carefully to lay back on the bed.  For now, at least, Ahsoka aimed to keep their bodies as tangled as their Force signatures, half draping herself over him, one leg hooked through his; beneath her hand on his chest she could feel his heartbeat starting to slow as his arms wrapped around her, one smoothing down her back as the other curled around a montral.  The warm security of it was as much a balm to her spirit as the bacta had been to her body.  With gentle fingertips she prodded at the darkening bruise at her neck, her hooded gaze sweeping over the unblemished expanse of his tanned skin.  “We’re going to have to talk about this, aren’t we?”

 

“I’m afra— _ah!_ ”  He craned his neck to look at her, chuckled as he found her with her teeth still awkwardly caught in the skin beneath his collarbone; the sound turned breathy as she released him and her tongue flickered out over the spot instead.  “Yeah, we are.”

 

A thoughtful hum as she nuzzled into his shoulder, then, “Think we could do it later?”  Already she was finding it hard to keep her eyes open, and she was expecting whatever conversation they had to be a long and involved one.

 

She wasn’t expecting the blanket—folded at the foot of the other bunk just a moment ago and called to them through the Force—that drew up around them, or the sound of the ‘do not disturb’ code being pressed into the door’s keypad.  Others would’ve called such usages frivolous, but she certainly wasn’t going to complain.  “I think it’s the best idea either one of us has had in a while.”  The words came with a fond caress, his thumb tracing the star-pointed edge of the blue at the tip of her montral.

 

They wouldn’t avoid the conversation for long but, for now, sinking into the bunk they shared was a far more attractive prospect.  The Force lay warm and contented between them, and neither was ready yet to retreat back into themselves. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!


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